


Recovery

by justtoarguewithyou



Series: Tumblr Comfort Mini Fest with SwottyPotter [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brotherly Love, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtoarguewithyou/pseuds/justtoarguewithyou
Summary: This work is a continuation of the previous one.Sirius goes to get his brother Regulus from the Black family home."Self-Discovery" is the first part, and "Recovery" is the second part.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Tumblr Comfort Mini Fest with SwottyPotter [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933714
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Recovery

Remus wakes up early and goes downstairs to make eggs.

It’s been four days since Regulus had run out of the Black family home, not bringing anything but the clothes on his back and his wallet and passport. Regulus had been home for their Uncle Alphard’s funeral services. Their parents had not deigned to attend, but hadn’t prevented him from going. Since there were so many other Black family members, the brothers didn’t have a chance to speak. His parents had counted on that.

They hadn’t counted on Sirius, however, driving up Grimmauld Place like James Bond in a 1964 Aston Martin DB5 Vantage, and honking long and loud. Sirius had yelled for Regulus to come out: “Regulus! L'heure est venue! Viens, mon frère! Rapidement!”

Regulus flung open his bedroom window, and scaled quickly down the drainage pipe, knowing better than to open his bedroom door. Both Black boys’ hearts were beating wildly inside their chests.

Remus had dived into the backseat, and Regulus had thrown himself into the passenger’s seat, as Orion Black had opened the front door. Sirius had cackled in victory as he drove away, his tires leaving long rubber skid marks as he punched the gas pedal.

Once safe at Alphard’s—their—home, Remus had watched the pair of them, murmur together softly in French. _They are so much alike_ , Remus thought, _except for the color of their eyes, and the shapes of their ears and lips_. Regulus was just an inch or two shorter, and slighter. He had his mother’s fine bones, while Sirius had inherited his father’s broader frame.

Remus had lingered awhile on a nearby leather club chair, and understood Sirius to say that Regulus never had to go back, that he would spend every cent he had to make sure of it. Regulus didn’t have to go back to school, he could study in London if he wanted, or Sirius would hire a tutor. Anything Regulus wanted, anything at all, just stay, Sirius had pleaded.

“Do you remember the story we made up about the knight and the dragon?” Sirius had whispered in French, holding his brother so close. Regulus had nodded, looking and feeling very small in that moment. “They weren’t enemies. They protected each other. But for now, for you, I am the knight and dragon both. All will be well. We will be fine. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” Regulus had said. And both boys had cried, holding onto each other so tight.

Remus could imagine them: very young, just two small boys who only had each other in their very cold, and frankly, very miserable, home. Remus had gone to bed soon after, leaving them to dream, and make plans.

Sirius and Regulus had fallen asleep that first night on the leather sofa, curled together, after hours of whispering back and forth. They had still been asleep when Remus left for work in the morning.

Sirius had found Remus after work that afternoon, and asked him to stay with him in the flat. “Just for a few days,” Sirius had said, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, keys to Alphard’s—his—1963 Shelby Cobra in his hand.

Every day since, Sirius wakes up to Remus with a wide grin on his face, and kisses him silly. Remus knows he’ll never leave.

Sirius now has a housekeeper, and a chef, both preferring to stay on with the house. But until Jacob learns to cook eggs exactly how Sirius likes, Remus won’t relinquish this one small duty.

Jacob rolls his eyes, muttering in disgruntled French, and throws up his hands. “Remus, I can cook eggs.”

Remus just smiles and shrugs. “Please, let me do this one thing.”

Jacob shakes his head, and starts the coffee, slices a fresh baguette, and pulls out the butter, a little fig compote.

They eat their meals together and Sirius delights in the absurdity of owning both Bernardaud porcelain and a set of Black crested silverware. His Uncle Alphard’s priceless French antiques are too fine for him, and Sirius might donate them all to a museum. But in the meantime, Sirius appreciates the Modigliani in the hallway, and the Cezanne in his bedroom.

“Boys,” Sirius says, relishing his eggs, “Let’s go to Paris. I have a house in Paris.”

Then, Sirius laughs because that sounds ridiculous, and drinks his coffee. “Or Berlin, or Hong Kong. Or we could go to New York City. I could hire a jet and we’ll rent out Rockefeller Center!”

“For what?” Remus asks, ever practical.

“Who cares?!” Sirius responds, and waves his fork at him dismissively.

Regulus smiles, and spreads the compote onto his entire slice of buttered baguette. Their mother would be appalled—bread should be torn into pieces, and only the small piece about to be eaten should be buttered. Regulus crams the entire piece of baguette into his mouth, and chews happily.

“Let’s go to Paris,” Regulus says with his mouth full. “Do you remember the summer we practically lived in the Louvre, and we made friends with that security guard who would let us stay after hours in the Egyptian wing?”

Sirius laughs. “Yes. Do you remember what he said about the Mona Lisa?”

The Black boys burst into a peal of laughter, and Remus feels curiously left out, but incredibly happy for them both. Sirius catches Remus’s eye and winks at him.

After breakfast, Regulus goes to take a shower, and Sirius takes Remus's hands into his own.

“Come to Paris, Remus,” Sirius whispers softly, his vowels still soft and slightly elongated from all the French. “I’ll buy you a beret.”

Remus laughs, and Sirius kisses both his cheeks. “Thank you, for being here, for being with me.”

“I love you,” Remus says.

“I love you,” Sirius answers, and playfully bites Remus’s bottom lip. “Quit your job, Remus,” he says, looking into Remus’s eyes. “Please? I can’t help it—what’s the point of all this money if I can’t have you and Reg, and we can all do exactly as we please?”

Remus sighs. Part of him would very much like to quit his job.

“You don’t have to decide now. At any rate, come to Harrod’s,” Sirius says, running his forefinger along Remus’s jaw. “Regulus has no clothes, and I’ve decided you need a cashmere sweater.”

Remus laughs again, as Sirius nuzzles his neck. He knows better than to argue, or Sirius will buy him two cashmere sweaters, a scarf, and a new trench coat besides. Sirius is anything but stingy.

“You make me feel like a kept man, Sirius,” Remus teases.

“Of course I’m going to keep you, I love you,” Sirius says, smiling brightly, and purposefully misunderstanding Remus’s joke.

Later, Sirius will have to hire a lawyer, and have tedious arguments with his parents. But for now, Sirius is so happy, with everything he wants under one roof.

Sirius offers up a silent prayer of thanks and remembrance for Alphard—his knight, and his dragon.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justtoarguewithyou) Come give me prompts! :)


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